Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(22)

“No.”

“Well, if I sit around hashing through the case the night before, I get all wound up and have trouble sleeping. It’s better if I take the night off so I don’t overthink it. Maybe it’s weird, but it’s my thing. And I’ve got the best win record at the firm, so I’ll stick with what works.”

Erik was impressed, but he kept it to himself. She had plenty of confidence already.

“So what happens tomorrow?” he asked.

“Voir dire. That’s lawyer-speak for jury selection,” she added. “We go through every potential juror, one by one, and each side has a limited number of opportunities to strike someone from the pool.”

He watched her talk, paying attention to her body language—something else he’d been trained to pick up on. She made lots of eye contact, which probably helped her win people over in the courtroom.

“What makes you strike someone?” he asked. “Race or age, I’m guessing?”

“Actually, no. I mean, race is a factor, sure. Sebring is mixed race, so we definitely don’t want an all-white jury. But more important, I’m looking for mothers.”

“Mothers,” he repeated.

“Preferably mothers of sons. They tend to be sympathetic.”

Erik lifted an eyebrow.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I can see it in your face.” She tipped her head to the side. “You have any brothers?”

“Two. And my mom was tough as nails when we were growing up.”

“Well, I bet she gets picked for jury duty a lot. She ever mention it?”

“Actually . . . yeah, come to think of it.” Erik folded his arms over his chest. “I always thought it was because she was a teacher.”

“Teachers are good, too. They tend to be fair-minded. What does your mom teach?”

“She’s retired. But she taught middle-school science.”

“I’d definitely want her on my jury, then. She’d pay close attention to the physical evidence.” She picked up her beer. “But hey, we’re not talking about the trial tonight, remember? It’s bad luck.”

The waiter returned with two big plates. The hamburgers were about six inches tall, but Brynn didn’t hesitate to pick hers up and dig right in.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and moaned.

Erik tried to keep his mind out of the gutter as he started on his food. For a while, they ate without talking, and he kept his gaze moving between the bar’s two exits.

“So Brynn, I need to ask you some things.”

She looked wary. “You want to know about Corby.”

“That’s right.”

“You have a file on him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I want to know from you.”

She sighed. “Know what?”

“I want to know why, exactly, you don’t think he killed Jen Ballard.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then took a sip of beer. She placed her glass on the table.

“The police think he did,” she said.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. The timing’s pretty uncanny, if it wasn’t him.”

“True.”

“But something feels off with it.”

“Off how?”

“Well . . . if you read about Corby, you know his MO. Every one of his victims was raped and choked, and then he slit their throats. So this thing with hunting down Jen and shooting her? It doesn’t add up.” Brynn shook her head. “I mean, if this is about revenge, wouldn’t a knife be his weapon of choice?”

“I don’t know.”

Erik knew someone who would, though. Liam’s brother was a criminal profiler, and they needed to get him involved in this.

“Corby killed that prison guard with a homemade shank,” Erik said.

“Yeah, that’s my point. He has a thing for knives. And torture. So he spends three years in prison fantasizing about getting revenge on the woman who helped put him there, and then he tracks her down and shoots her? And also, where’d he get the gun?” She tipped her head to the side. “You know a lot more about guns than I do, in your line of work. Wouldn’t it be a stretch for a convicted felon to get a firearm so fast?”

“With money, anything’s possible. He could have a connection in prison who told him where to go.”

“That’s the other thing,” she said. “He’d just escaped. If every cop in the state is looking for him, you’d think he’d want to keep a low profile.”

“You’re assuming he’s logical.”

“Fair point. He might not do the logical thing. But he is smart. I know that firsthand from the trial.” She poked at her french fries, but she seemed to have lost her appetite.

“Sorry to have to ask you about this,” he said.

“It’s all right.”

Still, he felt like shit for bringing it up. “Were you and Jen close?”

She didn’t talk for a moment, just stared at her plate. Then she looked up.

“Jen mentored me when I was just out of law school and working for the DA’s office. We got to be friends. She took it hard when I went over to the dark side.”